“Leave him,” Mac said, turning away, one hand going to the pup’s head. “We can’t stay. Dinner with the Posts tonight.”
Cassidy tilted her head in confusion. “They don’t have space for us in their apartment.”
Mac winked. “Not in the apartment.” He took her arm and gently guided her toward the door even as she leaned down and received her excited puppy kisses from Lucy.
“Hey, sweetie, hey little darling,” Cassidy cooed. She reached over to give some love and attention to Ricky, too, saying to Mac, “I think you like Lucy more.”
He chuckled. “Why do you say that?”
With a soft laugh, she teased, “You always did like the bitches.”
Mac let out what sounded like a long-suffering sigh. “The amount of punishment coming your way, Day…”
Her body thrilled at the promise in his voice.
Walking up the street, they paused once or twice so the puppies could be pawed over and admired by their neighbors. As they approached the Trading Post, Silas and Marge came out the front while Mac lifted the sling’s shoulder straps to remove the puppies.
“Evening, young ’uns,” Silas called.
Cassidy smiled. “Mac’s here, too.”
He tossed her a heated look, promising her a night filled with penance. “I turned forty, not eighty.”
“Watch it,” Marge chided, taking Ricky from him while pecking him on the cheek in greeting.
Silas took Lucy, vigorously scratching her between her ears, which set her front paws to bat at his hands and her mouth to frantically attempt to capture his hand.
“Shall we go on back?” Marge asked with a twinkle in her eye, looking at Mac like he was her favorite person on earth.
Cassidy would never get over how Marge now crushed on Mac. One sideways look from him, and the old woman couldn’t help but cave. It amused Mac to no end how he’d won the woman over in the span of a year.
“Where are we going? Surely, we aren’t eating on your boat?” Cassidy asked, referring to Mac’s boat. She knew the name. She was learning Spanish. She was still too self-conscious, after everything, to refer to it by name.
“No, Cassidy, on yours.”
Cassidy tossed him an unamused look. “That’s not funny.”
Some lines they still didn’t cross.
Stepping out onto the back dock, Mac stopped and took her face into his hands. “Not meant to be funny, Day.” He kissed her slowly, not caring they had an audience—they were well over being shy with their PDA—or that puppies were squeaking and yapping. When he lifted his head, he turned his gaze toward the water. “Yourboat, sweetheart.”
Giving him another hard look, Cassidy followed his line of sight. There were several boats docked at the Trading Post marina, but only one was namedThe Fred, complete with an etching of the dog himself beside the name. The dog himself was sitting on the deck wearing his bright yellow vest, tongue lolling out of his mouth with happiness.
A hand flew to her mouth as a sob escaped her.
Marge and Silas were standing to the side, beaming.
Cassidy turned her eyes to Mac, unable to say anything.
Mac acknowledged, “I know he hates water, but I also know he looked after you when you were in the water. So, when you’re out there on your own, if you haveFred, he and I will feel better. Also, Coast Guard safety package.” He exchanged a smile with Silas. “I had some help.”
Cassidy launched herself into his arms.
“Oh, okay,” he said with a low chuckle.
“I can’t believe you did this! I can’t believe you named it after Fred!” She kissed his face, his neck.
Rubbing her back, he said, “Couldn’t think of anything better.”